


Christmas Day

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [97]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	Christmas Day

  
**players only. backdated to 2013. takes place the morning after[this log.](https://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/12584.html)**

_warnings: none_

The room is barely light, the pale colours of dawn painting the sky when Stephen wakes. He grimaces as he rolls over onto his back, a dull ache has set up shop at the base of his skull and on top of that he needs to piss. Now.

Carefully extricating himself from the warm cocoon of their bed, Stephen makes his way to the ensuite, casting Antony a smile as he shuts the door behind him.

Antony shifts, reaching out for Stephen, one eye opening a fraction when he doesn't find his boy. It's Christmas morning, that much he knows, so Stephen must be in the washroom. Otherwise he's sure he would have heard something. He closes his eyes again and falls back into sleep.

"Fuck," Stephen hisses in pain as he's sat over the toilet, last night coming back to him all too clearly. He's been at this long enough to know when he's done himself some damage, and the way he's hurting now... he carefully wipes himself clean and then he's rooting through the cupboard under the vanity for the cream they used last time he got torn.

Once that business is taken care he washes up and swallows down a couple of Tylenol with a few scoops of water and quietly returns to bed. Antony's clearly stirred, but his husband is asleep.

"You okay?" Antony mumbles, throwing his arm over Stephen and drawing him in, aware some time's passed since he last closed his eyes.

"S'headache," Stephen sees no reason to say more right now, a couple hours more sleep will do them both good. "Go back to sleep," he murmurs, snuggling in again and settling against warm skin, his eyes closed.

Reassured, Antony does so easily, Stephen back where he belongs. But eventually he wakes for good, pressing a kiss to Stephen's shoulder. "Merry Christmas," he murmurs, running his hand down his lover's back.

A lazy smile lights up Stephen's face, his headache gone he's only interested in the fact it's Christmas Day, his first with Antony, and his first as a married man.

"Merry Christmas Tony." Nuzzling in Stephen seeks out Antony's mouth for a slow, sensual kiss.

Antony makes a soft sound of pleasure, hand slipping down to cover Stephen's ass, pull him in tighter.

Pulling back, Stephen breaks the kiss, though not before he dips in for one last taste. "D'you think he's been?" he asks, his whisper is conspiratorial, with a hint of pretend childish excitement, his eyes widen for a moment. "Oh no! What if he thinks you haven't been good enough huh?" he teases. "You are a very naughty man after all."

"Maybe I got a whole stocking full of coal," Antony suggests with a laugh but then he grins. "I'm pretty sure he came last night. I think I heard something out in the living room."

"You mean he got through your security?" Stephen teases, taking one last nip at Antony's lower lip before pushing up to sit, turns his face away for a moment, rubbing over it and scrubbing through his short crop of hair.

"Santa always has clearance," Antony teases back, stretching with a groan as he sits up. "How's your head?"

"Fine." And it is. "Champagne and subspace make for a nasty after-kick," he gives Antony a half shrug. "That and a sugar overdose."

"Don't go out there until I'm ready," Antony says, heading straight for the closet, a pair of clean pajama bottoms in hand as he ducks into the washroom.

"Yes Sir," Stephen drawls in amusement, admiring Antony's ass as he disappears. He rolls out of bed himself, digs out some pjs of his own and tugs them on, adding a tee to the ensemble and wandering over to the huge windows he takes a moment to appreciate the view. "Merry Christmas world..." the words murmured to himself.

Having quickly washed up and brushed his teeth, Antony emerges, still tying the drawstrings on his pants. "Are you taking pictures?" he asks, contemplating whether he needs a t-shirt.

"Nope, just admiring the view," Stephen turns on the ball of his foot and wanders over to slide his hands around Antony's waist, "though this view is entirely more to my liking." He brushes his mouth over Antony's before squeezing his fingers into his husband's side.

"Hey." Antony squirms a bit under those probing fingers. "I meant this morning. Whether I need to be decent."

"You are decent, your largest asset is safely tucked away," Stephen chuckles, he lets his hands drop away. "You know how much I love this," he dips his head to nose at the generous chest hair Antony sports. "Hmmm, you smell good."

At this rate, they're never going to make it into the living room but Antony could care less. He drops his hands to cup Stephen's ass and grins. "I smell like bed and a bit of soap and water."

Wriggling out of Antony's grip, Stephen laughs at that. "No, darling man, you smell like you, sex, man, fucking hot." He cocks a head at the bedroom door. "Can we go look now?" Of course he knows Antony's presents are still safely stashed - not having had a chance to sort them last night.

"Sure," Antony grins, making sure he's a little ahead of Stephen so he can see his husband's face when he sees what's been added.

What's clear is that 'Santa' really had been and paid a visit, because there are definitely more gifts under the tree than there were last night. "Oh!" And Stephen's stocking is also full, a cute teddy peeking out of the top. "You've spoiled me again huh?"

"I can't seem to resist," Antony says with a small shrug.

"But no yacht, thank fuck," Stephen snorts. "Right, coffee first, do you mind? I need to go find where Santa left your coal."

"Are you hungry at all?" Antony asks, moving into the kitchen. "I bought a roll of those cinnabon things. I can throw them in the oven."

"You have to ask?" Coffee, cinnamon rolls AND presents. Stephen's all kinds of on board with where the day's heading so far. "Sounds perfect." He heads toward the spare bedroom, returning with an armful of carefully wrapped gifts, complete with bows and ribbons.

"Someone's sneaky," Antony says with a smile, starting the coffee and pulling the rolls from the freezer.

"What? I asked him to hide them," Stephen winks, keeping the pretence up. He settles down on his knees and puts the gifts with the others already laid out, then picks up Antony's still empty stocking... "Be right back."

Antony watches him go for a moment - how the hell did he get so lucky? - then pops the rolls into the oven and grabs two mugs of coffee and his phone for pictures before settling on the couch.

"I looked everywhere," Stephen announces as he reappears for the second time. "Not a lump of coal to be found, you got off lightly," he says archly, setting the stocking, now full to bursting, down beside his own. He parks himself beside Antony and picks up his own coffee.

"Maybe Santa likes bad boys," Antony says, eyes crinkling, leaning in against his husband.

"Oh! So you admit it, you are a bad boy huh?" Stephen turns his head and presses a kiss to Antony's temple. "I knew it!" Taking a sip of coffee he surveys the scene laid out before them, the tree with all its lights, the presents laid out beneath it. "First of many huh? You and me..."

Antony nods. "Maybe next year we'll be having it in our beach house," he says,

"Maybe we will," Stephen agrees easily. "Taken a picture yet? Before we demolish it all?"

"Not yet," Antony says, but he does. "You should get down there." Taking a picture of Stephen with the tree and their presents. "So, how do we do this? Stockings first?"

"However we want, this is our Christmas, we make our own, new, Amell-Starr family traditions," Stephen glances up at Antony, a smile lighting his face as bright as the tree.

Antony smiles back, his heart swelling at the look on Stephen's face. "Stockings first then," he says. "You do yours."

Minutes later Stephen is tearing open some chocolate and getting stuck in, and unscrewing the top of some massage oil to sniff it. "Hmm, I like that, is this for you to use on me, or me on you?" he asks, from his spot on the floor by the tree. He's got a tee draped over one leg, it's emblazoned with the WWE logo and covered in the autographs of some of his favourite wrestlers and had earned Antony a huge 'Fuck yes!'.

"Me to use on you," Antony says with a smile, getting up to grab the rolls from the oven. "You want one or two of these?" he asks, slathering them with icing. "Or should I just bring the whole pan over?"

"All of it. Bring. It. On." Stephen calls out as he peers at the label on the oil. It's some all singing all dancing organic stuff and he wonders if Antony picked it up in New Zealand. "Can I get a massage later then?" he adds, a little distracted as he shoves more chocolate in his mouth.

"Sure. If I'm still conscious and not passed out in a sugar coma," Antony teases, bringing over the pan and an already-open package of Christmas napkins. He tosses a silicone trivet on the coffee table and sets the pan down, the napkins set beside it.

"We're going to have start eating sensibly before we head to Nepal, all this shit will make me fat and sluggish," Stephen carefully selects a roll from the pan and sets a napkin on his knee, seemingly unconcerned about his diet right this moment.

"Tomorrow," Antony responds, biting into a roll. "You can't talk eating sensibly on Christmas. Not when I've got turkey and stuffing and a pumpkin pie waiting."

"Not tomorrow," Stephen wrinkles his nose at that. "Leftovers tomorrow, and chocolate." He makes short work of his first roll before moving on to a second. "Right Mr... more presents..."

"For you, or do I get my stocking now?" Antony asks, licking icing from his fingers.

"For you," Stephen picks up Antony's stocking and carefully hands it over.

Christ. It's been a long time since Antony's had a stocking to open. He thought he hadn't really been missing out, spending his Christmases alone or working, but here, now, the way Stephen's watching him, the pleasure and expectation on his face? The only thing that makes bearable everything he's missed is the thought he won't ever miss out again. "Nice," he drawls, pulling out the pj bottoms covered with Christmas trees and reindeer. "I'll have to change into these later." He grins at Stephen, laughing as he takes out a pair of water pistols followed by a rude dot to dot book, a couple more books and some scotch miniatures. "Perfect. You obviously know me too well."

"Better than anyone," Stephen points out, he rolls onto all fours and crawls to sit at Antony's feet, pushing up seeking a kiss. "Because I love you better than anyone," he murmurs, his eyes full of love and adoration. "Always will."

"Lucky me," Antony murmurs, kissing Stephen, his mouth soft and warm, the words not even remotely a tease.

It's a kiss that lacks the usual undertones of sex, it's one of deep love and affection, it speaks of Stephen's connection to this wonderful, warm and loving man. He pulls back, his chin lowered, a smile playing over kiss damp lips.

"More presents now or should we spread things out?" Antony asks, cupping Stephen's cheek in his hand.

"More presents," Stephen chuckles, "Then we have all day to laze about, cook, eat and make out." Stephen's planning on interspersing those activities with some TV, music and alcohol.


End file.
